


The Sirius Paradox

by SAYS



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 01:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15038177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SAYS/pseuds/SAYS
Summary: For Marissa -- They were not supposed to meet, and they most definitely weren’t supposed to fall in love. ***Written for the SAYS Facebook Fic Exchange***





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elena78](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elena78/gifts).



> At first, I really wondered how I could make one of the pairings you requested work, Marissa, but I’ve always liked a good challenge! Now, I am very happy I had to write for you, dear, because I’ve been a lot more inspired by the pairing I chose than I thought I’d ever be… and I’m sad I’m done writing this story. I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

“No!” Sirius Black half-sobbed half-cried, choking on the word in a vain attempt to deny the horrible truth. It couldn’t be. It was the worst of his worst nightmares. His best friend… his brother! He couldn’t believe James was dead. And Lily too. “No! No, no, no…” His voice was pleading now. He closed his eyes, but he couldn’t stop the image of their dead bodies to pop on the screen of his mind. The more he tried not to think about it, the more vivid it was.

It was driving him insane.

As was the knowledge that he had killed them as surely as if he had cast the spells himself.

If he had gone through with Dumbledore’s plan, if he had become the Potters’ Secret Keeper as he was supposed to be, James and Lily would still be alive. Harry wouldn’t be an orphan. He would still be the happy and laughing one-year-old baby Sirius had bounced on his knee every time he had visited with his friends. Sirius would never, ever, have given away their location to anyone. He would never have done anything that could arm James and his family. They were the only true family he had ever had and he would have died to keep them safe. But, no, he had to be the one to tell James it would be safer to have Peter Pettigrew as their Secret Keeper instead. He, Sirius, was the obvious choice, which wouldn’t do to keep them safe. He had done his best to persuade both James and Lily, and in the end, they had believed themselves that his plan was brilliant. They had even agreed that Albus Dumbledore didn’t have to know. No one had to know, not even Remus. It would be safer that way. Though no one else did, the Marauders knew Peter’s true colors. He had managed to become an Animagus - albeit rather slowly and with Sirius’ and James’ help, but he still had, in the end – which was no small feat after all. The idea was that Voldemort and his minions would never suspect Peter was the Potters’ Secret Keeper, he had always been the one people dismissed as insignificant at first sight. But Sirius, James, and Remus knew Peter better than anyone else… or so they had thought.

Sirius had been wrong, terribly, horribly wrong. He had been so proud of his own plan - no one would ever know, and they would be the end of Voldemort and his Death Eaters! He wasn’t a coward – that wasn’t why he had switched with Peter. He knew he would have kept the Potters’ secret to the grave. And then, what…?

The question had haunted him, night after night, after Albus Dumbledore had come to talk to him about the Fidelius Charm. That’s when his dilemma started - he could keep the Potters safer than anyone else, but everyone knew he was James’ best friend and as soon as they would all disappear, he’d become the most wanted man in the Wizarding world. He would have to be very careful not to make any mistake or he would be caught. He hadn’t been afraid to die, but of the consequences of his death.

Sirius had been unable to sleep until he’d finally known what had to be done.

Peter had been scared the first time he’d approached him, but he too had been convinced by Sirius’ arguments. Nothing would change, after all. The Death Eaters would still try to find Sirius, thinking he was the only one who could lead them and their master to the Potters. Sirius would act as a decoy, and he would do so gladly. He was a Marauder; he would lead them on a merry chase - literally -, a chase they would never forget, he would make sure of that.

Sirius barked out a mirthless laugh that sounded like the death call of a crow and hissed, “Peter, you son of a bitch!”

Peter had sold the Potters to Voldemort. He had betrayed them without the slightest hesitation. He was a coward and a traitor, and his weakness put a stain of shame to the name of the Marauders.

In their first year at Hogwarts, James and Sirius had befriended Remus Lupin, who himself had befriended Peter Pettigrew, the short and plain boy who had been sorted in Gryffindor against all odds. Peter had been happy to have friends and he’d started making progress. He would never have become the wizard he was today if not for James Potter. And Lily… Lily had always been an angel. As fiery as her temper could be at times, she had always been nice to Peter. She would talk to him whereas she made a point to ignore James.

Sirius let out a strangled sob. Thinking about them, he felt like his heart was ripped out of his chest all over again, still beating, and then replaced by an anger so hot it was like a living thing clawing at his flesh and bones - he’d find Peter and he would make him pay! He didn’t have anything to lose anymore.

His rage was the only thing that kept him from drowning in his own despair.

Sirius couldn’t believe what had just happened!

As he was trying to catch his breath, he told himself he should have known that a cornered rat would do anything to escape… even fake his own death.

Sirius was angry… at himself. Now the Wizarding world would believe he’d killed James and Lily Potter as well as Peter Pettigrew and a few Muggles. Except Sirius hadn’t cast the spell that had blown the whole place to bits, even though he’d been in a rage, he knew he had not. So it had to be Peter himself.

Sirius knew he didn’t have much time left before he was caught by the Aurors. The shock of being bested by Peter had been like a catalyst. He could try again to catch Peter to expose him - because he knew Peter was alive – or he could make everything right again.

He might be caught trying, but he was a Marauder and so he would try nevertheless. If he died, he knew the Death Eaters would probably finish what he’d started and kill Peter, whom they thought was responsible for Voldemort’s death.

A few seconds later, he apparated as close to the Ministry of Magic as he could.


	2. Lost

Hermione looked up from the parchment she’d been reading and made a face. Her back was painful, her neck was stiff and she couldn’t feel her toes anymore in her pumps from sitting for too long. She wasn’t really surprised to see that all her co-workers had left already and she was the only one still working. She stretched, arching her back, and moved her head - up and down, and side to side - trying to loosen her stiff muscles and get herself ready to get up from her chair. Come on, Hermione, you can do it! she told herself sternly, wiggling her toes as much as she could. Her eyes fell on the clock mounted on the closest wall and she started - it was almost ten o’clock already. She had left the office a little later every day for the last few months. No wonder her desk was the only one with no stack of “to do” papers. She looked down longingly at the one she’d just finished reading over and thought about starting working on the next. But there was none. Too bad. She could have spent the night here. Or the weekend… yes, it was the weekend already.

But then, she looked around again and shivered at the eerie silence. All of a sudden, the gloomy room felt oppressive and she imagined ghosts lurking at her from its dark recesses. Hermione wasn’t afraid of ghosts - no witch or wizard was - but there were a few she didn’t want to meet.

Then again, right now she wouldn’t mind a ghost to keep her company. She felt so lonely…  
She pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. She wouldn’t cry, oh no, she wouldn’t cry… Closing her eyes, she told herself to get a grip on herself.

“A ghost? Do you hear yourself?” she mumbled. She shook her head, wondering if anyone could become even more pathetic.

There was a time, not so long ago, when she was always happy to go back home at the end of the day, just like her co-workers. Most of the days, she left the Ministry at the same time as a few of them and they had a friendly chat on the way out. She had a social life.

Not anymore.

Now, if she happened to die while sitting at her desk and became a ghost, they would barely notice. She didn’t talk to any of them more than was necessary to do her job.

Hermione Granger got up and slowly left her office at the Ministry of Magic.

But she wasn’t ready to go back to her empty apartment yet. There was a nice little Muggle pub two blocks from here. She had been there a couple of time - ok, maybe not just “a couple of” times - and she really liked the place. Whereas in the Wizarding world she was Hermione Granger, best friend to Harry Potter and one of the heroes of the war, in a place full of Muggles, she was only a working girl in a nice suit. There were times, like tonight, when she craved to be just an anonymous young woman who had never done anything extraordinary in her whole life and never would.

Yes, it would be nice to have a drink without having to overhear people whispering her name and wondering why she was drinking on her own.

Hermione decided to walk there. The night was warm, with only a soft breeze playing with the locks of her hair that had come undone. She unpinned her tight bun to let her hair down and immediately felt a little lighter.

A few minutes later, Hermione pushed the door of the pub and was assaulted by the sound of many voices talking all at once. She grimaced, but she bravely walked in and went to the counter.

“A whisky, please,” she told the bartender. “No, make it a double.”

He nodded but made no sound. The first time she’d been in here, he’d tried to talk to her but now he knew she just wanted to be left alone.

“A double…” Hermione would need that much tonight to face the ghosts of the past in her far too quiet apartment. Six months ago, it was full of talk and laughter, of the sounds of love. Six months ago, it was full of life. Ron was never completely quiet - he even talked in his sleep! How ironic that she missed now what she found so annoying before… She had loved him for so long that she didn’t know how to live without that love in her life. Ronald Weasley had been her first love and she had thought they would spend their whole life together, grow old together. She’d thought they’d have children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. And for a few years, their life had been good. They came back home happily at night and talked about their day at work while drinking a glass of wine and making dinner. They had nights out twice a week and spent their weekends with Harry and Ginny, at the Burrow once a month, the other weekends visiting some place or other. Yeah, they’d had a good life. Everything had gone according to plan. Yeah right... as if you could plan your life!

Sometimes, your first love is just that… your first love.

Slowly, so slowly they didn’t even notice it at first, Hermione and Ron had fallen out of love. Ron had been the first to realize something was missing.

Yeah, probably when Lav-Lav had her tongue down his throat again! Hermione thought viciously.

Then she sighed. She and Ron couldn’t stay together out of habit - you don’t do that when you’re twenty-two! Yes, Ron and Lavender Brown had met again and as far as Hermione knew, they had really tried to fight the attraction. But it really looked like Won-won and Lav-Lav were made to be after all.

Hermione gritted her teeth. She had to stop calling them Won-Won and Lav-Lav. Seriously, she was happy for Ron - alright, and for Lavender too. They were cute together. They looked very happy, in spite of everything Lavender had to go through. Hermione wasn’t jealous because Ron was with another woman. Their friendship was still intact and she wished the best for him.

She was jealous of their relationship. If she and Ron weren’t made to be after all, then where was her one true love? Who was he? There had to be someone, somewhere, for her too. She had loved Ron for far too long and now there was a gaping hole in her heart that needed filling.

Hermione sighed again and looked at her empty glass. It was time for her to go home or she would order another drink, and though she wasn’t drunk or even close to being drunk, she knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to keep on drinking. She’d done that once, and she still couldn’t remember the hangover she had the following morning without wincing in retrospective pain.

She took Muggle money out of her handbag, left it on the counter and got up from the stool. She grimaced when her right foot hit the floor – she’d been wearing those shoes for much too long. Yes, it was time to go back to her silent apartment and her cold bed.

Not for the first time, Hermione wished she could go to her mother and father’s place again. It was what a girl was supposed to do when her life had been turned upside down, wasn’t it? They couldn’t understand most of what she’d been doing when she was younger, but they’d loved her unconditionally. And she’d cast the worst spell on them a child could cast on their parents – she’d made them forget everything about her, she’d erased herself from their life. They thought they were childless, had never had any child, unknowing victims of their witch daughter.

Hermione closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She’d had to obliviate them. She had had to protect them, even if it meant being an orphan while her parents still lived in the house where she’d grown up. Even if it meant they would never see her marry the man she loved, know her children… be parts of her adult life.

Hermione heaved a heavy sighed. She would accept Ginny and Harry’s invitation and spend the weekend with them. She would bask in the warmth of their love… and try very hard not to throw up.

Something had gone wrong.

 

Sirius looked at the Timeturner in his hand and frowned when a warm breeze lifted the hair on the nape of his neck. It was never that warm in October, not in Great Britain, and he was obviously in London, in front of the Ministry of Magic. That much he knew. The question was… when?

He’d never used one of those dreaded Timeturner before, so he must have made a mistake and gone back more than a few days. His guess was a few months, even though he would have said it was impossible. But here he was, and it felt like summer.

He needed to find the exact date so he could go where – or rather when – he wanted to go.

Hermione swore under her breath - she’d left her apartment key in the top drawer of her desk. If she could, she’d just apparate there, but she had cast a spell that made it impossible for anyone, including herself, to apparate inside her home. Old habits die hard. She would always be a bit paranoid.

Well, she’d have to go back to her office.

She took out her wand and with a flick of her wrist turned her pumps into nice comfortable sneakers. Better, much better, she thought with a sigh of relief. She should have thought about doing just that earlier.

So late at night, on a Friday, she would have to go through the back door. Great! That meant they would know she’d been in again. Oh well, it wasn’t like she could break into her own apartment, right? She’d made it impossible too, anyway.

You’ll have to lower your guard a little bit, girl, she told herself.

“Don’t move!” a male voice hissed behind her.

Hermione started. She hadn’t heard anyone following her, so she must have just passed the man hiding in the shadows. This is just the perfect ending to a perfect week, she thought, sarcastic. She was being robbed by a Muggle. It was so humiliating… and infuriating. She debated pulling out her wand but decided against it. It wasn’t worth all the papers she would have to fill if she did, being so close to the Ministry of Magic.

“I don’t have a credit card or a cell phone,” she forced herself to say, the little hair rising on the nape of her neck. “But I have some cash…”

By some, she meant a few pounds, really not that much, now that she thought about it. She hoped he would be a good boy, take the money and go away, because she really didn’t feel like jinxing him, then obliviating him. She just wasn’t in the mood.

“What? What are you talking about?” said the same voice, incredulous now.

Hermione heard the mugger come closer and was unnerved when she could feel his breath on her ear. Alright, enough was enough. Her temper flared. She started to turn around to face him while drawing out her wand and stopped when she felt something press against her side…

“Please, I don’t want to hurt you… so keep your hand away from your wand.”

… a wand.

So he wasn’t a Muggle mugger but a wizard mugger. She almost chuckled at that – she had no idea why she thought it was rather hilarious. It had to be all the stress. She was losing her marbles.

Then she looked at the man in front of her and gave a little start.

Hermione knew that face - she’d seen it on a few pictures, in an old photo album - but it couldn’t be.

I’m really losing my mind, she thought with dread. Maybe she’d kept on drinking and she was out now with her head on the counter and dreaming of…

“Si-Sirius?”

Hermione couldn’t believe her own eyes. Sirius Black was dead. And even if he wasn’t, he would be a lot older. Twelve years in Azkaban had aged him beyond his years and he’d looked older than thirty-three or thirty-four years old when they met him at the end of their third year at Hogwarts. He’d been gaunt, with sunken eyes and grayish skin, so unlike the tall, lean and healthy young man she was facing.

Maybe he was Sirius’ hidden son?

Sirius started and stepped back. How did she know his name? Who was she? He’d never met her, he was sure of that. He knew he would remember her if he had - no man would ever forget such a face after laying eyes on it. She was beautiful… He shook himself. He hated himself for having to do that to a woman, and all the more so to such a beautiful woman.

“How do you know my name?” he blurted out, raising his wand a little. “Who are you?”

He. Is. Sirius! Hermione thought, her eyebrows shooting up. What did young Sirius Black - he couldn’t be older than when Harry’s parents had been killed - do here, now? She wished she had had only one shot of whisky. Or none at all. Her brain seemed to be the worse for it. She couldn’t think clearly.

“My name’s Hermione. Hermione Granger,” she answered. “You don’t know me, but I do know you.”

Or at least she’d known the half-crazed Azkaban escapee with his haunted eyes, the broken man who’d spent twelve years in Dementors’ hell. She’d always been amazed at how handsome he had been in his youth because there wasn’t much left of how good-looking he’d been after Azkaban. She couldn’t see him well, but she could already tell that he looked even better in person.

If it was a dream, she wouldn’t mind taking him home and…

Down, girl, she told herself sternly. It wasn’t the best of time to get all out-of-character.

This Sirius was young, as young as she was, but the anguished look was already there. He looked like he was going to ask her a question, press the subject, but instead, he blurted out, “What day is it today?”

Hermione wasn’t so surprised and replied: “July… the 12th …”

“How could I go back a few months?” he wondered. Timeturners weren’t supposed to take you back months, were they?

“July the 12th… 2002,” Hermione went on, knowing it would be a shock. “You didn’t go back in time, Sirius, you went forward twenty-one years.”

Sirius froze. Then she saw him sway and stepped forward to support him. “Come on, let’s go over there. You’ve got to sit down for a minute.”

He let her steer him towards a bench. His brain was blank and he had to focus hard to put one foot in front of the other…

Hermione helped him sit down. “Put your head between your legs and breathe deeply,” she advised. Now she wondered whether she should have waited to tell him the exact date – but how long? Would it have lessened the shock if she hadn’t said a word about the year now? Probably not.

Sirius straightened up and for the first time, Hermione saw what was dangling from a chain around his neck. A Timeturner. “I’ve got to go back to early October… 1981.”

October 1981. Hermione felt a cold shiver going down her spine. It was the month Lily and James Potter died and Harry became an orphan. Her breath caught in her throat - she suddenly had a suspicion concerning what Sirius had been trying to do.

“Yeah… but not tonight,” she heard herself reply. “We have to understand how you got here first.”

As she said that, she got up from the bench and heard a metallic sound. It was her apartment key - it had just fallen off the back pocket of her purse. Why had she put it in there? She never did…

“I have to go back to October 1981,” Sirius insisted.

“I understand that, but whenever you do, the time you’ll have spent here won’t matter.”

Oh well. She was going to bring Sirius to her apartment, after all. And this time, it wasn’t the whisky speaking.

Hermione and Sirius apparated in the alley behind the building where she rented an apartment.

“Where are we going?” he suddenly asked, looking around.

“My place.”

Hermione still wondered whether she was doing the right thing. But it was Sirius, Harry’s godfather, his father’s best friend… She just couldn’t have left him at the Ministry, could she? He was… family. Sort of, anyway. She’d been at Grimmauld Place, the place where he’d grown up, a few times, and she couldn’t take him there.

And above all, knowing who he was and where he came from, she just couldn’t let him make a bigger mess than he had already.

Yes, she was definitely doing the right thing.

Any other day, Sirius would have made a quip about the situation – a young and beautiful witch inviting a stranger over… - but he was so tired he was afraid to blink for fear he would fall asleep. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept or eaten.

He let Hermione led the way and they climbed the stairs quietly. As soon as he entered her apartment, he knew he would have regretted his lame joke, had he made one earlier. He could tell she wasn’t the type of woman to invite a stranger over. There were books everywhere, and she still wore her work suit, so she must have worked late.

“I have some cold meat, cheese, and crackers,” she told him. “Are you hungry?”

Sirius was famished, now that he thought about it. “Yes.”

“I’ll be back in a minute. Make yourself comfortable.”

Hermione walked away and Sirius sat on the sofa. It was so comfy he couldn’t resist resting his head on the back. Now, it wouldn’t hurt if he closed his eyes for a minute, would it? He was asleep within seconds.

Hermione came back with the food, saw that her guest was sleeping and sighed. Oh well, she’d eat alone. She was getting used to it, even though she didn’t want to.

Before going to bed, she went back to check on Sirius, who was now sprawled on her sofa, his handsome face against one of the big cushions. She took a quill and wrote down a note:

_There’s food in the fridge if you wake up.  
Help yourself._

Sirius woke up from a weird dream in which he’d found himself in the twenty-first century. Too bad, he’d have loved to know the beautiful witch better. Why was it that some people could only meet the ones who did it for them in their dreams? It was unfair…

Don’t tell James or he’ll make fun of you till the end of time, he thought.

Then it hit him. And he remembered.

His heart skipped a few beats and Sirius had a hard time breathing.

James was dead. And Sirius had tried to go back to the day they cast the Fidelius Charm, so he would become the Potters’ Secret Keeper just as Albus Dumbledore had planned.

Sirius sat so fast his head started spinning. “Lumos!” He looked around him. It wasn’t a dream, after all. His eyes fell on the note Hermione had left on the coffee table. He couldn’t believe his luck, really. How many chances had he had to find the one young witch who knew him by sight?

He wondered how she’d met him – she must know his older self quite well to be able to recognize him immediately. Or maybe he hadn’t changed that much… how old would he be now? In his early forties… He wondered if he had found love, if he had kids. Lily had known how much he wanted a family of his own. He didn’t have to tell her - she’d just known it.

Sirius knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to try and take a look at his older self, but maybe he could convince Hermione to show him James and Lily?

He had no doubt he’d gone - he would go - back to save them. There was no other option.


	3. Cat and Dog

Hermione woke up slowly. She hated eating dinner so late - it gave her weird dreams to go to bed on a full stomach. Yawning, she stretched, got up and shuffled to the bathroom. Just as she was opening the door, a man stepped out of the shower. It took her a full second to register a very naked Sirius Black in front of her.

“Arrrrgh!”

She was frozen with her mouth slightly opened, staring wide-eyed for what looked like forever. Then she turned around mumbling a barely audible “sorry” and shut the door behind her.

Hermione was fully awake now. Her heart hammering in her chest, she went to the kitchen like a sleepwalker and without thinking filled the kettle at the sink. How could she have forgotten about her guest? She was about to open the fridge door but laid her forehead against it instead, closing her eyes. Immediately, she could see him again clearly in her mind’s eyes and blushed. If Ron’s stomach had been flat – he was still very much the lanky teen she remembered -, he’d never been into exercising, whereas it was obvious Sirius was. He was lean, finely muscled without being bulky, with dark hair on his chest and… Hermione felt her cheeks - her whole face – grew even hotter.

Down, girl! she admonished herself, but the more she tried not to, the more she could see him. He’s Sirius Black, you silly, so stop acting like some sex-starved teenager!

Hermione tried to hold onto the image of the old Sirius, the one that had just escaped from Azkaban, who had aged prematurely in the care of the Dementors for twelve years and looked so old to a fourteen-years-old, but it didn’t work. She had feared him at first, during her third year, feared what he would do to Harry if he had the opportunity. Then she’d learned to respect him, and not just for Harry. But the young Sirius in her apartment was… well… hot. Very, very hot.

Sirius chuckled at Hermione’s reaction. Well, seeing all the man’s items he’d found in the bathroom, he wasn’t the first man she’d seen naked. A man lived in this apartment with her, which was oddly… er… upsetting. Sirius wondered where he was. Had the guy come back so late he hadn’t heard him? Maybe he was in Hermione’s… no, their bedroom right now. Sirius wondered what he thought of the situation. Had Hermione explained everything, already? It wasn’t like she could hide the fact that a stranger was asleep on their sofa.

Sirius sighed and wondered if the mystery man would mind if he borrowed his bathrobe. If I’d known I would go on such a trip, I’d have packed a few things, he thought, sarcastic. He hadn’t paid much attention to them before, but his clothes were filthy and needed to be cleaned as much as he had himself.

Grief and anger threatened to engulf him again and he kept them at bay with the thought that he would go back and save his friends, his family - it wasn’t an option. Then he would make Peter pay.

Sirius took the bathrobe, wrapped himself in it and went to the kitchen.

He found Hermione with her forehead pressed against the cool surface of the fridge door.

“Are you alright?”

She jumped, turned around and blushed crimson. The color on her cheeks made her look so real, so vulnerable… and strangely attractive.

Don’t even think about it, Black - she’s a married woman!

Still, he had to do something because she wouldn’t look at him.

“Now I’ve got to see you naked too,” he told her.

Hermione’s jaw dropped, and he grinned. For a second, he thought he’d gone too far. Then she met his eyes and chuckled.

“I hope your husband won’t mind that I borrowed his bathrobe.”

She sobered and shrugged. “Not at all. He doesn’t need it anymore.”

Sirius looked at the young witch, stricken. “I’m sorry…” Twenty-one years later, were there still that many deaths? Were they still at war? He hadn’t thought about asking…

“Oh, don’t be. I’m sure Lav-L…” She stopped short, closed her eyes briefly and continued, “I mean Lavender bought him another one.”

“Oh…” It was a good thing she turned around to make them some tea and couldn’t see the look of relief on his face. Of course, he told himself he was relieved because he didn’t have to meet a not too happy young wizard over breakfast. He wasn’t ready to admit, even to himself, that ever since he met her, he’d found her… fascinating, to say the least.

“People fall in love all the time, and some fall out of love.” She shrugged. “It happens.”

When she turned to him again, he could see she was biting her lower lip, probably to stop babbling. She’s not the type to complain much, is she? he told himself to stop himself from thinking too much about her mouth and how much he would like his teeth to…

Stop it! Now! Married or not, you’re on a mission, remember?

“Ron left a few of his clothes behind - we’ll go through them later to try and find you something,” Hermione continued, thankfully unaware of his inner struggle, starting the eggs with a wave of her wand.

But Sirius couldn’t hear her for another reason now. He’d just noticed a picture on the fridge. “James…” But as he got closer, he saw that the young man had green eyes… the same green as Lily’s eyes were.

“No,” Hermione breathed, “It’s Harry.”

Sirius hadn’t heard her come closer. “Harry…?” Of course, it was Harry! He was on Hermione’s left side and another young man with ginger hair was on her right. They all wore Gryffindor colors.

“You know Harry?” Sirius asked with a lump in his throat, even though it was rather obvious that she did.

“He’s been my best friend since… well, forever.” Looking at the picture, she had a fond smile. “The three of us - I mean Harry, Ron and I - went through so much together.”

Hermione’s smile faded and she blinked a few times very quickly. Sirius didn’t much like the pained expression on her face. It was an old picture, a school picture… Had something happened to Harry since it was taken? Had she believed she loved the other guy, Ron, because Harry was their friend and he was gone? There’d been a prophecy…

“Is Harry… still alive?” he had to ask.

Hermione looked up at him. “Oh, yes.”

Sirius remembered how to breathe. Does it mean…? he wondered. Does it mean Voldemort is gone for good?

“Is that how you know me?”

Hermione turned away and pretended to check on the eggs. “I don’t know how much I can tell you, Sirius.” And she busied herself with serving breakfast.

Sirius knew she wouldn’t tell him more than she already had, and to be honest, he didn’t know if he wanted to know.

Hermione knew that if she’d been in Sirius’ shoes, she would have died to know the answers to each and every one of her questions, and yet at the same time, she’d have dreaded those answers - what if they were not what she so desperately wanted to hear? If she’d been told everything about her own life beforehand, would she have found the strength to go through it all?

She wondered what she could have told him, anyway. “Yes, we were told you wanted to kill Harry and feared you during our whole third year at Hogwarts, after you escaped from Azkaban” or “yes, but only briefly, because you died during our fifth year, pushed through a Veil in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic by your heartless cousin Bellatrix Lestrange.” Oh, yes, she could so imagine herself delivering that kind of news.

That was when she realized more than ever how much Sirius’ life had been dramatic from beginning to end. He’d been a brilliant youth, a talented wizard who’d managed to become an Animagus, and a loyal friend, but he’d never had a real chance at a life. Her heart started to ache for him because as much as it was terrible to know what had happened to Sirius, it was even worse to know what was going to happen to the man trying on clothes in her guest bedroom right now.

“So, what do you think?” Sirius’ voice asked, breaking her out of her reverie.

Hermione shook her head and looked at him.

“Are you alright?” He closed the distance between them, frowning, and touched the side of her face with his fingertips, searching her eyes.

“I’m fine,” she assured him, taking a step back. How come she’d never noticed before that his eyes were dark blue, speckled with gold, like stars in the evening sky? “You look great,” she continued, forcing the words around the lump in her throat. He had chosen a white shirt and black pants she had bought for Ron, who had never worn them.

And it was the truth - he looked great. Sirius was tall, but unlike Ron, he stood with his back straight, and when he moved, he was lithe and graceful like a big cat.

Twenty-four hours ago, she thought her life was miserable. Today, she was just that close to crying over Sirius Black’s.

“Do you trust me?” Sirius had asked Hermione.

“Y-yes,” she had stammered, taken aback. But of course I trust you, she thought. Who wouldn’t? You’re not the guy who spent more than a decade in Azkaban because he was reckless enough to go hunt one of his best friends down instead of going to talk to the only person who could have helped you. But she knew it wasn’t fair to Sirius - yes, he’d been a little shit at times, and he’d been foolhardy too, but he’d been as loyal to his friends as his Patronus form had ever claimed him to be.

“I need to go and see… someone… and I’d like you to come with me.”

Obviously, he hadn’t wanted her to ask him who he needed to see so badly, but since he had no idea what had become of his friends and foes, she’d decided they would probably be fine.  
Half an hour later, they had apparated as close to Hogwarts as possible. So they were going to the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…

“Tell me about you, Sirius, and about your friends.” Hermione thought it was a safe subject to talk about the past while they were walking. If she made Sirius talk, she wouldn’t have to answer his questions.

“I thought you said you knew me,” he told her, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione blushed slightly. “A little… I mean, I was fourteen when we met, and you were in your thirties then…”

He chuckled. “Oh, yeah, I see - I was an old man!” He sobered. “I guess you still don’t want to tell me anything more about it, do you?”

Hermione stopped and closed her eyes for a few seconds. “I wish I could, Sirius, believe me, I wish I could. But you’re going to go back to the early 1980’s and the less you know about what happened between then and now, the better.”

“You sound so much like Moony,” he muttered, frowning.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she quipped. Then she cursed herself silently and hoped Sirius was so frustrated by her silence he hadn’t heard her last comment.

He stopped and looked at her, his brow furrowing. “You can’t…”

“I can’t… what? I cannot know anything about Prongs, Padfoot, Moony… and Wormtail?”

“Don’t say his name!” Sirius hissed.

“I’m sorry… Padfoot.” And Hermione was really sorry. She couldn’t imagine how it must have felt to him to be betrayed by one of his best friends. “I never meant…”

“It’s ok,” he said, his jaws still clenched. “Just tell me he died a painful death and I’ll forgive you.”

“Well… yes.”

Sirius started walking again. “Won’t you tell me how you learned about…”

“The Marauders?” Hermione could tell that he hoped James had told them their story himself. “When Harry was in third year, two Gryffindors gave him a very interesting map they had found inside the castle.”

“The Marauders’ Map…”

Hermione saw the ghosts of hundreds of memories in Sirius’ eyes. It takes only one change in your life to turn your most happy memories into your most painful ones. She couldn’t help herself - she lightly put her hand on his arm

Sirius cleared his throat. “So Harry got the Map… James must have been so proud.”

Stop doing that to me, Hermione thought. “I’m sure he was,” she replied, and silently added, Wherever he was… “So, are you going to tell me what we’re doing here?”

She desperately needed to find a safer subject.

“I need to talk to Albus Dumbledore.”

So much for the safer subject… Hermione took a deep breath, counted to ten, then released it. “I’m sorry, Sirius, but… but you won’t be able to talk to him.”

It still hurt to think about their Headmaster, the great wizard who had done so much in his lifetime for the Wizarding world, and who had died from the hand of a friend. Hermione knew the whole story, of course, and because of that, every time she thought of Dumbledore, she was torn between sadness and a little bit of resentment. Every time… before reminding herself that he’d been only human, after all.

Sirius stopped walking again, disbelief plainly written on his handsome face.

“Do you trust me, Sirius?” she asked.

“Y-yes.”

They had come to the shore of the lake and Sirius had stopped short at his first glimpse of the white shape. Taking his hand in hers, Hermione pulled him towards Dumbledore’s grave. Sirius half-walked half-stumbled in her wake. They stopped a few feet from the stone and stayed there in silence for some time. When a tear rolled down Sirius’ cheek, he brushed it angrily.

“What happened?” he asked, holding out his free hand as if to touch the stone. But he couldn’t, and his fingers hovered a few seconds over it before he let his arm fall at his side again.

“He sacrificed himself for the greater good.”

She didn’t add “of course”, but her tone implied those two words as surely as if she had spoken them out loud.

“When…?” When she hesitated, his jaws clenched again. “Hermione, please…”

“Does it matter?” she asked.

“Of course!”

“Oh, alright!” she cried, “it was five years ago… there, you know when, but it can’t make any difference.”

Sirius had to bite back a retort. She was as infuriating as she was beautiful! He was going to go back to the early 80’s, so of course, he could make a difference if he wanted to! Though he very well knew she wouldn’t tell him more about it, he still had to ask, “Was he killed?”

Hermione bit her lower lip as if to make sure she wouldn’t be tempted to say a word.

“Of course he was killed,” Sirius said.

“How can you…?”

“Come on, Hermione, I’m many things but I’m not stupid! If Albus Dumbledore had died of old age in his sleep, you’d just have said so!”

She looked both pained and angry, and he realized he didn’t like to be the one who made her feel so.

“You have no idea how hard it is…” he began.

“And you, Sirius, have no idea how hard it is to decide what I can tell you and what I can’t!” she cut him. “Don’t you think I know what you could do with any information I give you?”

Her eyes were flashing, and she was so beautiful with the fire of her speech coloring her cheeks that he was rendered speechless.

“I thought the Blacks taught better manners to their children,” a voice with a Scottish accent said behind them.

Hermione and Sirius started and turned around. A severe-looking witch with black hair pulled back in a bun was coming towards them.

Sirius snickered. “I thought you knew the Blacks entrust the education of their children to their house elves, Professor McGonagall.”

“So the rumor is true,” she nodded, then she smiled and her features softened, which made her look much younger. “Welcome back, Gryffindors.”

“Have you cast some warning spell to tell you when people visit Dumbledore’s grave?” Hermione asked.

“But of course, Miss Granger. Now let’s go to my office, we do need to talk, I dare say.”

The castle was so very quiet it was unnerving. The kids had left a couple of weeks before, and their voices and laughter had deserted the halls. Hermione swallowed, hard, and her respect for Minerva McGonagall went up a notch – or a few. So many of their friends and allies had died here, during what the Wizarding world would always know as the Battle of Hogwarts, and the eerie silence made the echoes of the fights even louder. Or so Hermione thought. It was the first time she’d been at the school since that day, and she realized she was afraid of seeing the ghosts of all the dead.

“Are you alright?” Sirius whispered.

She hadn’t noticed him moving closer and she started a little when he brushed the back of her hand with his fingertips. “I’m fine,” she lied, and she caught McGonagall’s sympathetic look.  
The people in the portraits were commenting their passage.

“It’s Hermione Granger! Do you think she’s here to stay?”

“Merlin’s beard! Could this be… Sirius Black? I thought he was d…”

“Shhhh!”

Hermione was happy when the door of the Headmistress’ Office closed behind them.

“Please, take a seat,” Minerva McGonagall said with a graceful gesture of her hand. When they were both sitting facing her, she continued, “I see Albus was right when he told me we would see you again, Mister Black, and I was wrong to think that you’d been killed or you’d run away so far that we’d never hear about you again.”

Hermione thought that she looked like she’d have liked either of her own versions better. Then she started – what had McGonagall just said?

“Excuse me, Headmistress, but it’s not how it all happened…”

Then she shut her mouth, understanding dawning on her. If the past was already different from the one she remembered… A cold shiver ran down her spine.

“What do you mean, Miss Granger?”

Hermione felt like her younger self during a Transfiguration class, except this time she didn’t have the answer to the professor’s question. Fortunately, McGonagall was far more interested in Sirius’ explanations and turned back to him.

“Since you haven’t aged a day since the last time I saw you, I can only guess that you found some way to travel in time.” She puckered her lips and neither Hermione nor Sirius dared interrupt her as she was lost in her thoughts during a few minutes. “Did you stop to think about the consequences? No?”

Sitting next to Hermione, Sirius swallowed, hard. “I really never meant to travel some twenty years forward, Professor…”

“No? Then when do you think you were going?”

“I…”

She gave him a hard look. “No, don’t answer. I think I know when, and what you thought you were doing.” McGonagall turned to Hermione. “I am sorry that you got involved in that sad story, Miss Granger.”

“But I am not, Professor,” Hermione answered, and saying so, she knew that it was the truth. She also felt the need to add, “And even if I don’t approve of Sirius’ action, I’m glad I was the one he met and I’ll help him go back to 1981.”

McGonagall nodded. “We’re all happy that he met you instead of some little goose who would have fallen for his good looks and…” She didn’t have to finish her sentence – they both knew what could have happened. Of course, not all little geese would have known as much as Hermione did… “Now tell me how you got here,” she asked Sirius.

He pulled the Timeturner out of his shirt, off his neck and put it on the desk in front of them all.

“My goodness…” McGonagall breathed. Then she cleared her throat, got up from her chair and gingerly took the Timeturner to have a closer look at it – she was holding it as if it could explode anytime. And seeing where – or when, to be precise – it had taken Sirius, it could well have. Hermione couldn’t blame her to be cautious. Finally, she put it down and waved her wand over it… and frowned. “Someone tampered with that one… someone powerful.”

Sirius was looking at the Timeturner with his mouth slightly opened, and then he took it and put it reluctantly back around his neck. Hermione who was looking at the old witch saw her peek at one of the portraits in the room – Dumbledore’s portrait. Hermione’s eyes widened. They exchanged a look.

Right at that moment, the occupant of one of the other frames appeared. “Well, well, well… I would never have thought I’d see that face again,” he sneered.

Sirius looked up and gaped at the portrait during a few seconds, and then his face darkened. “Don’t tell me…” he said through clenched teeth.

“Then I won’t tell you,” McGonagall replied with forced gaiety.

“Be very careful, Minerva. You can’t trust this… man,” Severus Snape said.

“Severus,” she protested. “I do think you should have stayed out of this conversation.”

Hermione hid her face in her hands. She had forgotten for one second that Snape’s portrait had joined all the other headmasters’ and headmistresses’.

“And Miss Granger…” Snape drawled. “Tell me, Miss Granger, why do the Know-It-Alls of the world always choose the wrong man?”

Both Hermione’s and Sirius’ eyes flashed angrily. Then Sirius laughed. “I might be the wrong man, Snivellus, but I’m not dead.”

Hermione got up quickly, took Sirius’ hand and said: “Let’s go!”

Before they reached the door, Hermione turned around. “Thank you, Professor.”

“Don’t use it!” McGonagall hastily advised them. “Don’t use it or you could find yourselves… anytime.”


	4. The Letter

Sirius had been walking back and forth since they’d come back from Hogwarts. Hermione didn’t know what to do to help him. She knew he had gone through a lot during the last few days - even though a couple of those days dated back to 1981. She had a hard time fighting the impulse to take him in her arms and promise him everything would be all right. When he finally stopped to look out of the living-room window, she went to him and put a tentative hand on his shoulder instead.

“I’m here if you want to talk, Sirius,” she said in a small voice.

She could feel him trembling from suppressed… anger? Grief?

He turned toward her just enough to look at her from under the dark locks falling into his eyes. Hermione’s breath caught in her throat and she repressed the need to brush them back with her fingers. “Why would I talk to you, Hermione? Why would I bare my soul in front of you when you don’t want to answer any of my questions?”

She blinked to try to break the spell. “You know why…”

Sirius barked a laugh and started pacing again. Hermione went to the kitchen to pour them each a glass of firewhisky. She held one out to Sirius. He swallowed it in one gulp; she did the same and almost coughed it out when it burned her tongue, then her throat.

“When we were at Hogwarts together, Snivellus was always following us from a short distance. Always trying to find some proof that we didn’t belong there, always trying to get us expelled! And I couldn’t let him do that - I couldn’t! Hogwarts was like home to me.”

Of course, Hermione thought. Just like Harry. Sirius’ childhood had been as miserable as Harry’s… Both didn’t belong where they had grown up. Harry had more in common with Sirius than with his own father.

“How could Snivellus become the Headmaster of Hogwarts? When did that happen? Seriously, had the Minister for Magic lost his mind? The guy was a Death Eater!”

“I can’t…”

“See? You won’t tell me!” Sirius hissed, stopping right in front of her, his eyes bearing down on her.

“It was Dumbledore’s plan all along!” Hermione snapped. “Severus Snape redeemed himself. He…”

“How can you redeem yourself when you’re. A. Death. Eater?”

“He did his best to protect… Harry. He too sacrificed himself for the greater good and died a hero.”

Sirius wouldn’t have been more surprised if she’d slapped him. Then he said, “Dumbledore!” And he went to the window again. “The old bastard!”

Hermione gasped. “You can’t…”

Sirius swiveled on his feet and caught her by her shoulders, his finger digging into her flesh just enough to hold her still. “Are you shocked? Of course, Albus Dumbledore was a hero. I would have done anything for him - he would only have had to ask, and I’d have died for him. But you can’t deny that he knew people so well that he could push the right buttons to make them do whatever he needed them to do. Of course, we knew it was for the greater good, as you so rightly put it earlier, so we all followed him, and we’d have gone through hell for him because we wanted the same things he wanted.”

“He was only human, just as we are,” Hermione breathed.

Sirius frowned slightly. “Yes, he was.” He let go of Hermione, who almost stumbled, and he sat on the sofa, hiding his face in his hands.

“I’d hoped he would be able to help me.” He raised his head again and locked gaze with Hermione. “I knew from the moment you told me when I was that I wouldn’t be able to use the Timeturner again. It’s obvious it can’t be trusted.”

She went to him, holding out a hand, and he stood up again.

“We’ll find a way,” she promised, looking up, her mouth going dry to have him so close again. Without thinking, she brushed his locks away from his eyes to see them better. She saw the spark of what would happen next burn in their depths, but she didn’t move.

Sirius took her face in his hands and after searching Hermione’s light brown eyes for a few seconds, long enough for her to feel her heart start racing, he pressed his warm lips to hers.

Neither of them was prepared for the heat that flared up, and they had to hold onto each other.

 

Sirius stirred but didn’t open his eyes. Hermione’s body was warm against his. Her pale skin was incredibly soft under his hand. They had made love, passionately, then again, slowly, tenderly, taking their time.

Sirius had never felt like this - he’d never felt this - before. He’d had sex before, he’d never been short of willing partners, but he could never run away fast enough afterward. Tonight, he wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he had nowhere to go - with any other girl, a bench in a park would have looked like heaven as opposed to her bed. Not with Hermione. It felt… right.

And because of it, it was a little scary.

Hermione was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. Sirius didn’t think she knew how beautiful she was. She was smart too – he had seen respect in McGonagall’s eyes earlier in the day, and he knew how hard it was to gain the Scot’s respect. And what had McGonagall said? Ah, yes - Hermione wasn’t a little goose who went only for the good looks. He wondered what she’d seen in him… He knew he’d never been what people call a “gentleman” - but none of his one night stands had really been interested in Sirius as much as they had been in Black, so they couldn’t claim they had been used, since they had used him too. He wasn’t some kind of trophy! One day, when they were still at school, James had told him, “Those girls are huntresses, Padfoot, they all want your shaggy head on their wall!” And he couldn’t stop laughing. But for once, Sirius couldn’t laugh with his best friend – the image James’ joking had evoked stuck with him and came back later on, far too many times.

But Sirius didn’t want to think of his old professor or any nameless woman. He only wanted to think about Hermione’s eyes burning with passion, her flushed face, the sound of her voice as she called his name… The first time had been great, but the second had been like nothing he’d ever experienced.

Sirius had always thought he’d never fall in love, that no woman would ever be right for him - and it had nothing to do with some superiority complex. He’d just known it, deep down. And he could just start to fathom why that had been so.

Yes, he had thought he’d never fall in love. But then again, he wished he never had. He and Hermione weren’t made to be. It couldn’t be. He would go back, knowing all the time that she was there, somewhere, growing up… and that the day they would meet, she would look at him like a teen look at an old man. And he would be - old enough to be her father. It would hurt to look at her, to see her longing for another man, a boy her own age. And he knew he would be a little jealous, because what was in his past would be in her future…

Sirius Black sighed. He was in love – he didn’t know how it happened, he only knew when – and like most things in his life, it was cursed. It was the right love, but it wasn’t the right time.

He wondered how Hermione would feel about it in the morning. He wondered if she ever saw his older self when she looked at him – then again, he didn’t think so. He hoped she wouldn’t be angry at him for taking advantage of the situation… and at the same time, if she hated him, wouldn’t it make everything so much easier?

 

Hermione woke up. She could feel Sirius’ breath on the nape of her neck, like a caress, and it made her shiver in a delicious way. She didn’t want to move, she wanted to stay like this forever, with his body pressed against hers and his strong arms holding her close. She wanted to pretend they were in a bubble out of time… but her bladder popped her happy bubble as easily as it had woken her up, and she grudgingly but no less gently disentangled herself from Sirius’ embrace and got up.

She didn’t look back or she would have run back to him.

She didn’t look back… or she would have caught him watching her walk away with a little smile on his lips.

Before tonight, Hermione had only made love with one man - Ron. It had been good, a little awkward at times but always gentle. Now she realized that where there had been warmth between she and Ron, there was heat between she and Sirius.

There was real chemistry there.

Hermione took a glass of water in the kitchen before going back to the living-room. Sirius was still asleep on the sofa and she looked at him. First, she was a little shy and her eyes stayed on his oh-so-handsome face. As always, it was half hidden by his dark hair, which made her heart melt, and she smiled. Then she looked down slowly, blushing a little at the idea that he could wake up anytime, committing every detail of him to her memory.

His body was as breathtaking as his face was, and she had to stop herself from going back to him. She didn’t want to wake him up - not yet. She wanted to look at him some more, even if her legs threatened to turn to jelly, even if a whirlwind of emotions rose inside her and her heartbeat quickened and her breath caught in her throat.

Because one day soon… In a gut-wrenching realization, she was reminded that he wasn’t there to stay. And you promised to help him go back, remember? she told herself.

Hermione closed her eyes, briefly – like she’d had any other choice!

“Hermione?” Sirius called, searching for her, then his eyes focused on her face. “Are you alright, honey?”

She nodded, her teeth releasing a lower lip she didn’t remember biting, and holding out her hand she took him to her bedroom.

 

On Sunday night, Hermione announced over dinner that she would go to the Ministry of Magic the next morning to search the magical database to try and find a way to help Sirius go back to his time. Every time she thought about it now, she felt the same gut-wrenching sensation that she did her best to ignore. She didn’t want to waste one second of the time she would have to spend with Sirius mourning a relationship that wasn’t over yet.

How could she face the fact that, in doing the right thing, she would send him back to treason, more than a decade in Azkaban and death after two years of so-called freedom? It was impossible, more than she could have borne. So she just did her best to ignore everything she knew would happen to him.

When Sirius started to argue that he would go with her, his expression was haughty enough that she told herself she wouldn’t miss everything about him, after all.

“Sirius, I’m a Ministry employee, but you are not…” she tried to reason with him, keeping calm in spite of the fact that she was annoyed. “It would only be for a few hours! I go in, I visit the database, and then I take a few days off - my boss has been threatening me with a forced vacation since she heard that I was getting a divorce, so I’m sure she’ll be happy to get rid of me for a couple of weeks!”

“Hermione… I just can’t stay here while you do it on your own.”

Hermione closed her eyes and counted to ten, because she should have anticipated his reaction. She knew him well enough - fiery, foolhardy… but oh-so loyal and trustworthy. She’d been friends with a man like him almost all her life, so she understood that there was nothing worse than idleness for Sirius. Harry never went looking for troubles, but troubles found him anyway, because he just couldn’t let others do what he thought he had to do himself. Like godfather, like godson.

Hermione sighed. She didn’t have the strength to argue with Sirius – she didn’t want them to be at odds!

“Are you afraid I’ll find myself face to face with my old self?” When she didn’t reply but averted her eyes, suddenly unable to hold his gaze, he continued on a more subdued tone, “I guess I’m not Minister for Magic, am I?” He took her chin in his hand and tried to force her to look at him, but she resisted at first, because tears had sprung to her eyes and she didn’t want him to see them. But she didn’t know how to hide them from him either. “Come on, Hermione, it can’t be so bad…” She sniffed - really, how can you tell the man you love that he’s dead? - and let him have his way. He searched her face so long that she lifted her eyes to his. “How many years?” he asked her.

Hermione was so torn, and it must have shown, because he said, “Never mind,” and he kissed her.

On Monday morning, Padfoot went to the Ministry with Hermione, but they couldn’t find anything there. During the night, as they lay together in bed, Hermione gasped, “But of course!”

“What’s going on?” Sirius mumbled - he’d been falling asleep.

“We need to go to Hogwarts!” The library there was probably one of the best in the Wizarding World.

Off they were to Hogwarts the next morning, and it looked like Minerva McGonagall had been waiting for them - or maybe she was bored and had hoped they would be back, Hermione couldn’t tell for sure. The Headmistress offered them free access to the library and to all the books in her office. She also offered them to stay for the night, and Hermione was relieved when Sirius politely declined - so he too wasn’t ready to give up any of their nights to their search.

Maybe it was selfish of her, but Hermione was happy.

When they were about to leave, Minerva McGonagall was there to see them off, and Hermione didn’t miss the look of sympathy the Headmistress gave them.

Are we that obvious? she wondered.

Hermione and Sirius followed that routine during a week, apparating at Hogwarts every morning and disapparating every evening to go back to the young woman’s apartment, where they spent the night making love and holding each other. It was warm outside, and the sweet exotic scent of the star jasmine white blossoms and the more familiar one of the pink English roses wafted through the open windows.

One day, as Sirius was reading on the other side of the room, Minerva McGonagall who had joined them almost every day, whispered to Hermione, “Is he trying to go back to save the Potters?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, and I’m sure we agree we cannot let him do that.”

“But of course! And since he trusts you, I think you should be the one to help him see how many things could go wrong if he did…”

Hermione knew she was right, but still, she resented that role. “I just don’t know how, since I can’t tell him anything that happened to him after the Potters’ death.”

They were interrupted by an owl tapping against the window pane with its beak. It held a very creased envelope. McGonagall tried to take it from the bird, but it wouldn’t let her. “How odd…”

The owl flew to Hermione, who tentatively held out her hand to retrieve the letter. The bird let her and flew away as soon as its mission was over.

McGonagall gasped, “It’s… it’s Albus handwriting.”

Hermione looked at the older witch, her eyes wide, then she turned the envelope over in her shaking hands and saw that her name was written on it - her name, nothing more.

“Hermione?” Sirius’ voice broke the spell.

“I don’t think you should read this now,” McGonagall whispered, and she took the letter from Hermione’s trembling hands and hid it in a book. Louder, she said, “You should take this one with you, but don’t forget to take it back tomorrow.”

That night, as Sirius was sleeping in her bed, Hermione opened Dumbledore’s letter.

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
April 4, 1997_

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_I cannot tell you how much I am sorry that I will not be there when you most need me._

_I have a big favor to ask of you - yes, one more, but I promise it will be the last._

_I believe you are the only one who can grant an old man one last wish._

_I am probably the only living person who knows that the night young Sirius Black was arrested, he had gone to the Ministry of Magic to try and find a Timeturner in order to save the Potters. We both know he failed, and everything that happened afterward._

_Like everyone else, I thought he was guilty when I should have known, deep down, that he could not have betrayed Lily and James. I had a few opportunities to go and talk to him, to listen to the truth from his own mouth, but I let him down._

_So now that Death is at my door, I decided there had been far too much suffering, far too many deaths, and I would give a loyal young man a fair chance at a life._

_That is where I need you. You see, I could not let him go back and save the Potters - do you truly believe that if it could have been done, I would not have been the one to use a Timeturner? But we can’t just go back and save all the people we love - it would be wrong, it would be irresponsible. People die all the time – we are no Gods, we can’t decide which ones will be brought back and which ones will be sacrificed. One cannot try and change the past - there are always consequences._

_And yet, knowing that, I left the Timeturner where young Sirius would find it... and sent him forward in time. You know as well as I do that I cannot get Harry involved. So, please, Miss Granger, try and find Mister Black. You have to help him understand that he must not save the Potters. You can tell him anything he wants to know, for he will never be able to go back to his own time - as far as I know, all the Timeturners powerful enough for that were destroyed a long time ago. All but one, because it was broken._

_You probably wonder why I’m telling you one should not go back to save a person when that is exactly what I have just done. Well, you will undoubtedly find out that Mister Black’s disappearance has not changed the story, and history, that much. And something tells me that he will have a part to play in the future._

_I have no doubt that our young friend will be angry with me, and you may well be too, Miss Granger. I just hope that you will both find it in your hearts to forgive an old emotional fool who is desperately trying to redeem himself if only a little._

_I am, yours most sincerely,  
Albus Dumbledore_

All of a sudden, Hermione felt so giddy with relief that it almost choked her as tears started running down her cheeks. Sirius couldn’t go back… Sirius would be able to stay with her – if he wanted to… And then she felt guilty because he was stranded here, after all, and he might resent it.

As they were about to leave for Hogwarts, in the morning, Hermione stopped Sirius and gave him a letter. The envelope was creased, and there was only a name on it - Hermione’s name -, but he immediately recognized Albus Dumbledore’s handwriting.

“You should read this,” she told him, visibly nervous.

Frowning, he took out the folded parchment and read it.

He had to read it twice to make sure he understood.

Then he turned to Hermione and hissed, “So you knew from the start that we were wasting our time…”

Hermione paled. “No! Of course not! You have to believe me, Sirius, I got this only yesterday…” She tried to touch his arm, but he didn’t want her to touch him so he held out his hand to stop her, and she looked hurt.

“I’ve got to go… I need to find a way…” All the pain, all the anguish, was back, and he couldn’t think, he couldn’t see past them. 

“Sirius, please, listen to me! Dumbledore knew a lot but he made mistakes… he couldn’t be right when he said there was no way…”

But Sirius was already at the door. He couldn’t leave Hermione’s apartment quickly enough.

As he turned into his Animagus form, he heard her cry out, “I love you!”

He started to run.


	5. Epilogue - One Year Later

The sweet exotic scent of the star jasmine white blossoms mingled with the more familiar one of the pink English roses again, creating a perfume that was intoxicating on a warm night. Alone in her darkening room, Hermione closed her eyes. The smell was evocative of her nights with Sirius, of the love they had shared, and the memories were as sweet as they were sour to her broken heart.

When Sirius had left that day, a year ago, she’d never have thought she’d never see him again. But he didn’t come back. She’d waited for him, day after day, night after night… She couldn’t eat, sleep or even focus on her work anymore.

Once, work had saved her from boredom and her fear that she would never find true love. As much as she had loved Ron, because there was no denying that she had, she hadn’t been heartbroken when their relationship was over. She had missed her friend rather than her lover. And now she knew why it had been so - something greater was coming, a love that would leave an imprint on her heart and on her soul. She had been envious of the relationship Ron had with Lavender, but now she understood - Lavender was to Ron what Sirius was to her.

No, she told herself. It can’t be.

Because in spite of what she’d thought, Sirius hadn’t loved her, had he?

She had to move on, but she could not. For some stupid reason she couldn’t fathom, she still hoped he would come back to her.

Hermione had been a wreck when Ginny, torn between worry and annoyance, had knocked on her door, one night in early August the year before.

“Now you’re going to talk to me, Hermione! Do you remember the vow we took, one night, at the Burrow? Well, I won’t leave before you talk to me.”

The vow… None of the two girls had a sister, and both needed one badly at times. They weren’t used to talk about their most intimate thoughts and dreams, but little by little, they opened to each other in the privacy of the bedroom they shared, and they vowed to always be there for one another.

So Hermione had talked – the whole night. She’d told Ginny everything, and it had felt good to talk about Sirius.

Albus Dumbledore had been right. Sirius’ absence from the big story hadn’t changed it much, and Hermione seemed to be the only one who could remember it the way it had been. Sirius was never caught after the Potters’ deaths and Peter Pettigrew’s faked demise, so he was never sent to Azkaban. People thought he’d gone into hiding and forgot about him as time went by - just the way they had forgotten about his very existence while he was serving his sentence in Azkaban in another life, really. Twelve years later, as Hermione, Harry and Ron were about to start their Third Year at Hogwarts, rumors started that Sirius had been seen in Hogsmead, that he must try to find Harry to finish him off for his long-gone master. The same year, Albus Dumbledore offered a job to one of Sirius’ best friends, Remus Lupin, and Harry was given a very interesting map of the castle. After months and months of stress, the odds were too much for some “rat,” who came out of hiding. Thanks to the Marauders’ Map, Remus found out that Peter was still alive and saw through his lies as Wormtail, chased by Crookshanks and forced to reveal himself in order not to be eaten alive, had to confront Harry, Ron and Hermione. Unfortunately, Peter escaped, and Remus couldn’t prove Sirius’ innocence. But he could finally tell Harry about his godfather, and Harry found comfort in the fact that someone, somewhere, was still there for him. Two years later, Harry was still trying to learn as much as he could about his mysterious godfather, which seemed to be only second best to meeting him one day, and that was how Voldemort had the idea to use Sirius to force Harry to come to the Ministry of Magic.

Little by little, piece by piece, Hermione had put the puzzle of the past together, and as time went by, she was relieved to see that Sirius was still conspicuously absent from it all – physically.

When Minerva McGonagall had sent a letter to Hermione saying she needed a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Hermione had quit her boring job at the Ministry and moved to Hogwarts for the school year.

But now Hermione was back in her apartment, and the memories of Sirius were everywhere. At times, it had felt as if he was there, close enough that she could have touched him… she’d learned not to look around when she thought she could sense his presence. She was just a fool and there was no need to advertise the fact to the whole world. She was able to act like everything was fine, but there was an aching hole inside of her that would never be filled again.

A knock at her door broke Hermione’s reverie. She sighed - Ginny’s owl about a girl night out had been insistent, and when Hermione hadn’t shown any interest, her friend obviously had to come in person.

Maybe if I pretend I’m not home… she considered. But she knew Ginny wouldn’t be so easily deterred, so she opened the door.

A big black dog looked up at her. Hermione’s jaw dropped in shock and in the blink of an eye there was a tall young man where the dog had been. He was even more handsome than any of her memories of him.

Hermione’s mouth went dry.

“Hello…” His voice was a little bit rough with lack of use. “There’s so much I want to tell you I don’t even know where to begin…” When she didn’t say a word - she was far too dumbfounded to utter a sound! -, he hesitated but finally continued, “I’m so terribly sorry, Hermione. I don’t know what got into me that day. I was angry at Dumbledore, but also at myself. I had to come to terms with the past and free myself from the anger, the grief… and the guilt. You see, I’d thought it would be so simple - I’d steal the Timeturner and use it to save my friends. But nothing went as expected. I ended up here and now instead, and I convinced myself that nothing had happened for real to James and Lily as long as I could go back and make everything better. I didn’t have to grieve because there was no way I’d let them down again.

“And then you showed me Dumbledore’s letter… and all the anger, all the grief, came back at once. It took me some time to be able to think past them, and when I did, the anger receded and the grief became more and more bearable. Even if I’d refused to see it at first, I had known all along that what I’d been trying to do was wrong, and though I disapproved of how he did it, I could understand why Dumbledore had tampered with the Timeturner.

“As to when it took me… I guess you and I had to meet. Fate had led me to you. And that was when guilt started to gnaw at me - I should have been mourning my friends, but instead, I’d been falling in love more and more every day with the most incredible and unforgettable woman I’d ever met. But James and Lily had died because of me and I had no right to be happy and feel so good. So I had to go, I had to give up the only woman I’d ever loved.”

Sirius closed his eyes briefly. “James called it the “Black Attitude” when he was in a good mood, the “Martyr Syndrome” when he wasn’t. I don’t think James ever intended it as a joke, even if he pretended otherwise. I never thought it was funny, probably because it hit so close to home - he said I was the Black cursed with a soul, that I felt like I had to redeem myself with every breath I took for things I couldn’t control. Prongs was the only person who could see through the attitude…

“James would have found the words to bring me back to reality even if he’d had to call me a drama queen or a Christian martyr again. But he wasn’t there anymore.

“I couldn’t take you out of my head, of my heart, so I tortured myself further – every now and then, I came back to see you, to watch you from afar. Every time, I hoped and I feared that I’d see you with another man, that I hadn’t heard your parting words right, that you’d never loved me and I’d been the only one fool enough to fall head over heels at the wrong time. But you always looked so sad, so lonely… and I finally understood that I wasn’t just making myself miserable, I was doing it to you too. And I couldn’t bear it.

“James and Lily were the most generous souls… I wish you could have met them. They would have disapproved of my behavior - I’m rather ashamed of it myself, but I decided to bare my soul nevertheless.

“So I came here today. I thought I’d never fall in love.” He let out a self-mocking laugh. “I was so wrong because I fell for you. Hard. I love you, Hermione, I love you and I’d do anything for you. I never meant to hurt you. I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forgive me and trust me again. If you think you will, if you think it’s not too late and you still want me in spite of all my faults… please, tell me, and I’ll never leave you again. I’ll give you as much time as you need.”

Hermione blinked, confused. She was one of the smartest witches of her time, and yet her brain had a hard time processing Sirius’ words. She felt moisture on her cheeks where her tears had been running down freely. Would it sound too clichéd if she told him he’d had her at hello? Hermione opened her mouth, but no sound came out, so she closed it again.

Sirius had been waiting for her answer. “I understand,” he said at last. “Don’t worry, you’ll never hear about me again.”

Oh, no, she wasn’t going to let him go again. She caught him by the front of his shirt as he was turning away to leave and, still unable to speak, she kissed him.

When he took her in his arms and they stumbled into her apartment, all her doubts and fears, all the sadness and the longing disappeared. Life had just given Hermione the greatest gift of all - true love.

Christmas had come early, this year.


End file.
